The High Road
by Shahrezad1
Summary: "You mind telling me what that was?" "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan." "You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one." Emma wants to get to the bottom of the matter, and Robin decides it's time to learn who this dark-haired woman is.
1. Chapter 1

**The High Road**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "You mind telling me what that was?" "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan." "You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one."

Disclaimer: This is all speculation (and will probably be shot down by the mighty force that is Canon), and I don't own anything—ABC/Disney does. :)

~/~/~

"You mind telling me what that was?" the question came, abrasive and blunt, as Swan kneeled beside her. Her knees cracked with strain as she did so, eliciting a slight twitch of Regina's lashes.

Still the former Evil Queen maintained eye contact with the forest floor, arms folded, "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan."

"You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one," Emma's eyebrows lifted expectantly.

Regina only grimaced, "yeah, well, I'm not exactly known for my friendly nature."

Expecting that to be that and Storybrooke's beloved 'Savior' to shove off, the dark-haired woman went back to looking at the ground, hands fiddling with the makeshift ring around her finger. When Snow's brat didn't leave, however, she looked up in exasperation.

"Is there something that you wanted, _Sheriff?_"

"Yes. Answers," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the fairy across the clearing. Tink had been twitching to try out her wings since Henry's declaration of belief, looking at them like an amputee who had suddenly regained a lost limb. The only time she'd stopped was when Robin and Regina interacted, her eyes wide and a hand clenched in the fabric of her tunic. Emma wanted to know why.

"Tinkerbell knows something, too."

"So go interrogate her instead."

"She's not talking. And my gut says that you're lying about something."

Regina's expression was droll, "wow. That's original. And you know what, Swan, I lie about a lot of things."

But Emma didn't buy that distraction. Fixed stare unwavering, she waited for her son's adoptive mother to break until, huffing with exasperation, the darker of the two finally rolled her eyes and blurted out an answer.

"Fine! I ruined his life, okay. Good enough for you, _Savior?_"

"_How_ did you ruin his life?"

"Does it matter? Why don't you ask him?"

"I already did. Robin said that he's never seen you before in his life, and I believe him—."

"Imagine that."

"What's the real story, Regina?"

She opened her mouth to retaliate with the most vicious response she could come up with, but in doing so made eye contact with Emma. Realizing just who her audience was, Regina Mills closed her mouth with a snap. _Well, that wasn't going to work. _Shoulders collapsing in on themselves, she rubbed at her forehead before decided what to say, "a choice I made—for _me_—changed his life for the worse. Butterfly effect. Are you happy now?"

It wasn't a lie, per se, but it also wasn't all that forthcoming, and Swan knew that that was the most honest she was going to get.

Emma rose, placing her hands on her back in a stretch as she did so, earning Hook's interest across the way—not that she noticed, "you should tell him."

"_What?_ No!" her rejection of the idea was a hiss.

"Look, we got Henry back," both women turned to their mutual son with softened expressions, but the walls were back up the minute they turned away, "and he wants you in his life—he really does. Which means trying to fix all the things you messed up," it was the wrong wording entirely, sure to set her hackles up, drawing an immediate sigh from the Charmings' spawn, "look, I'm just saying that you might as well start with Robin as any. I don't think he knows who you are that that…might give you a little leeway."

The new information caused her eyes to flicker up in surprise, "what? You can't be serious—everyone knows."

Emma's wave encompassed her, "hate to break it to you, but you don't exactly look—or smell—like the Evil Queen type right now. Just someone's mom."

The comment left her gaping, but by the time Regina had figured out what to say Swan had stomped off—sitting next to Henry whilst ignoring _both _of her suitors.

The Queen's moment of solitude didn't last long, though, as crunching leaves brought her gaze up…and into the very interested eyes of Robin Hood himself. Bearer of the Lion Tattoo.

"Do you mind if I rest beside you?"

~/~/~

The woman was an enigma, he'd decided. From the moment he'd joined the traveling party, merry men plus one, he'd been constantly drawn to her brooding, dark form.

Their arrival had been as much a surprise to his company as to theirs, the Dark One pulling enough strings to down a tribe of trolls. Of course, it was rather ironic that what it took to defeat a group of Lost Boys was a band of Merry Men—merry men who knew rogue's tactics and the benefits of forest warfare. He took pride in the fact that, even now, no lives had been spilt. Once Peter Pan had disappeared, vowing eventual revenge, the childish warriors had stood down, allowing themselves to be tied up after a long and grueling battle.

But even with the victory fresh on their minds, bringing forth relief, his had been and still was caught up in _her_. Robin was good about taking things in stride—the existence of killer children, for one, and this group of ladies' penchant for trousers, for another—but something about her threw him off.

They'd fallen into a rhythm together while fighting, he noted firstly, she playing a defensive part while he went on the offense, and the one instance in which Felix was about to strike her down he'd taken an arrow to the (thankfully protected) shoulder for her, the two of them gasping face to face. Yet in their single moment of formal introduction the dark-haired beauty dropped his hand like she'd been scalded, the fear in her eyes chasing away the boldness she'd otherwise shown.

It was an odd dichotomy. And no one had quite explained who she was as of yet.

'Regina,' was the general answer he received from Snow White, as though that should explain everything. Emma's response had been terse and also not forthcoming, stating that the lady was, "Henry's adoptive mother."

She had then proceeded to ask him if he had ever met her before, a curious question if there ever was one.

Robin Hood had been quick to realize that both of Henry's birth parents _and_ grandparents were present as well, complicating the matter and explaining some of the mixed feelings (though it didn't quite give answer to how a couple as young as Snow and David had a full-grown daughter). But it had been the fairy's reaction which pricked his senses most.

While dodging all conversation, Tinkerbell's scrutiny flew from him to this 'Regina', as though all her hopes and dreams rested on them. Her breath hitched when he moved, to collect firewood or sit by his son, and once—just once—she'd made eye contact with him. At the time it felt like she was trying to say something with that clear look and furrowed brows, but he had no idea as to what.

Only that they flickered to the lone figure on the edge of camp immediately after, where Emma Swan knelt in terse conversation.

The both of them looked irritated and tired, defenses up, until abruptly he saw Regina's shoulders droop as something painful was shared. Then the hackles were back up and Swan strode away. But her moment of defenselessness burned something into his chest like a firebrand and before Robin knew it he was looming above her in the dim light.

Regina's eyes were shocked, panic causing them to widen, and before she could demand an explanation he asked, "do you mind if I rest beside you?"

Not waiting for a response, he pulled up a piece of ground next to her, groaning with relief at getting off of his feet. The dark-haired woman studiously ignored him and the ridiculous noises he was making, till he abruptly held his hand out to her. She looked at it like it was a snake before finally slipping her slim palm into his calloused grip. Regina's eyes only rose to his when he refused to let her go for a second, liking the feel of her skin against his.

Only when a pink flush came up into her cheeks did he loosen his fingers, making sure to maintain his regard as she drew away. Afterward the single mother tried to move her hand out of sight, but it wasn't difficult to see her stretching and clenching it, as though to remove a tingling sensation.

The corner of his mouth lifted up in the beginnings of a smile, "I'm Robin Hood."

"Yes. I know. We've already been introduced," she responded tersely, eyes looking away and hair falling in front of her face. He noticed her wording—'introduced,' not 'met.' The stilted tone was also an indication of her status—this woman had had a wealthy upbringing, and the manners which came along with it. Just like his Marian.

"As Regina Mills, I am aware. But I get the feeling that there's more going on here than anyone is willing to tell me—even Neal. I figured that you might be the best one to ask."

Regina's eyes flashed across the glen to a specific individual, "you mean Snow White didn't tell you?"

"She called you, 'Regina.' Looked rather sad while doing it, I admit."

"And what about Swan?" she asked airily, looking just to the side of him.

"She referred to you as Henry's mother. Is that wrong?"

The slight shock in her gaze turned to a darker look, mouth twisting in a wry smile. This she forcibly aimed at him, a physical defense against some other feeling as the maid looked at him in defiance, "I'm surprised that they didn't warn you about me."

His heart skipped a beat at the darker tone, something heavy sinking into his chest. Although part of him was looking forward to the challenge…heaven help him, "and what would they have warned me about?"

"What I've done," she stated simply, straightening proudly despite her seat amongst the decaying leaves of Neverland's forest, and he almost—_almost_—believed it. If not for the despair he'd spied previously while she was in conference with the Princess' daughter.

"And about this 'rescue party,'" she'd continued.

"Yes? What about it?" he carefully asked.

"The problem being that when it was thrown together by the 'Dudley Do-Rights' over there it was made up of three heroes…and three villains," just like that, the gauntlet had been thrown down. A challenge aimed at him, daring Robin to figure it out. Which he quickly did.

The heroes were immediately evident: Snow White, David Nolan, and Emma Swan. Rumpelstiltskin was the King of all Villains, if there ever was one, and Captain Hook his second. Which made Regina…who exactly _was_ Regina?

Reading the question on his face, her lips twisted into a feral grin, "I've ordered the deaths of whole villages, persecuted _innocent little_ Snow White for half of her life, and betrayed my own allies and friends. I killed my own father for the sake of my revenge and trapped an entire kingdom in an eternal loop of unhappy endings," she was almost proud as she made the declaration of her sins, chin lifted to a self-righteous tilt as though completely without guilt.

His heart jerked painfully. Regina Mills was the Evil Queen and Princess Snow's Stepmother. He hadn't recognized her with the soft hairstyle and straight-lined, simple apparel in red and blue, but now that he saw the familiar twist of her mouth Robin knew…knew that this was…

She waited for the backlash to her exposure, just as surely as he waited for his brain to conjure up what to say. In that pause something in her fierceness…cracked. Infinitesimally. A slight faltering in her expression, her eyebrows twitching together in a way that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. It was hurt, plain and simple, buried beneath layers of animosity and revenge.

The kind of hurt which stared back at him in reflection pools and scarce glass windows; an emotion deftly hidden by a quick smile or a ready joke.

It was portrayed in the defensive hunch of her shoulders and the fact that even as Hook had perched himself within the ring of heroes, demanding acceptance silently, and Rumpelstiltskin had been physically drawn in via the stubbornness of his own True Love, Regina still sat just outside the circle of heat. On the edges of the ring of light, her features falling further into shadow as the day grew longer.

But she was also the Truest Believer's mother—he'd seen it with his own eyes. Seen the boy lurch to both women in his life before declaring Tinkerbell to be the finest fairy he'd ever met. He'd seen the green pixie grow her wings back and knew that any lad that strong of character couldn't have had an all-bad childhood. What's more, Regina had banded together with her enemies for a common purpose and even now was with them until the end.

Her past was…truly horrifying. But could he say that he was by any means innocent, himself? The Maid Marian had given him a second chance, so why not let Regina prove her worth? After all, outside of her boasts all he'd seen of the Quee—_Regina's_ actions was beneficial, so why not allow her to continue in the same vein?

By the time Robin had made his choice as to how he should act her expression had shifted from no-holds-barred regality to anxious uncertainty, her legs twitching and hands clenched in her blouse. The thief heard himself sigh audibly before extricating the closest limb and pressing his lips to the smooth, olive surface.

"Your Majesty, it seems it is my fate to be constantly surrounded by royalty."

Her face paled as he placed the kiss to her hand, but her mouth fell open and eyes welled with tears when he spoke, blanching further.

Across the clearing he spied Emma and Snow staring as though their world had been tossed on its head—again—while Tinkerbell watched them with bated breath, a tentative smile making her wings flutter.

Regina, however, wasn't thrilled, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath, trying to emotionally back away, "you don't understand, I ruined your life, too," she tried to tug herself free, but it was with no real force, though her face utterly heartbroken.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we'll figure it out."

And he meant it.

~/~/~

**AN:** So when I started this I was only expecting an Emma/Regina interaction, similar to the one that they had regarding Tinkerbell. I found it interesting that the only one Regina felt "comfortable" enough to reluctantly admit the truth to is Emma—dogged, flawed Emma, birth mother of Henry and child of her hated enemies.

But if anyone has the power to goad her into the truth, it's someone with a similar background of regretful mistakes and losses, with a stubbornness to match.

I didn't expect this to go beyond Robin's decision to reappear at her side, though—I wanted to leave that to the reader's imagination. Until Robin insisted that they actually hash things out for some reason. (Stubborn boy.) XD

With that in mind, I took this in a different direction. I knew that, 1. Regina's problems involve cowardice and hiding from the truth of her actions and that, 2. her reaction to fear is a fight or flight response. She runs away or she bluffs. The initial, "Muahaha, I'm evil," part of the conversation was just that—a test to see if he would run away and leave her like everything else good in her life. But she stated it so that he could choose before she became attached to him and got hurt.

I knew that I wanted to put them in a situation where Regina lays all the cards on the table, so that there would be no chance for either of them to misunderstand one another. But Robin called her bluff, he's not scared and he's not backing off.

Which is the scariest part of all for Regina.

So I suppose all that's left is to see where they take it from here. :)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**The High Road**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "You mind telling me what that was?" "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan." "You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one."

Disclaimer: This is all speculation (and will probably be shot down by the mighty force that is Canon), and I don't own anything—ABC/Disney does. :)

~/~/~

Chapter 2 (Only because so many of you asked for it. XD)

They'd hardly talked since that moment in the forest.

Then again, it was hard to talk when one of them was busy getting over a battle-instigated fever while the other was trying to fight off vicious adolescents.

The concept that Peter Pan was defeated was a false one, as pathetically optimistic as any of the idiots' plans. He'd sicced his shadow on them, releasing the Lost Boys, before appearing dramatically himself. Then she and her reluctant allies had fought for their respective lives.

Felix had been mortally wounded, Peter Pan taking his final breath after a dagger to the heart (the Dark One's dagger, coincidentally. It appeared that two could play the same shadow game), and as for their own party…Rumpelstiltskin had barely survived to see their return to Storybrooke, where True Love's kiss saved him in the nick of time. Henry had been the one to make him powerless, though, 'disbelieving' the dagger of all things and thus became the Dark One's 'undoing,' but it had taken a kiss from the bookworm to cut off his vestiges of power.

And Robin…her supposed 'True Love' had been knocked out in the assault, the resultant cut putting him into a fever for the rest of their flight home. So much for knowing the ways of the forest.

The Merry Men took care of him, but it hadn't been difficult to hear his moaning cries above the rush of air as the Jolly Roger sailed through the sky. It had always been for his deceased wife, Marian, and son, Roland. She could practically number the hours to the sound of his yells, staring herself into a stupor in a hidden corner of the deck.

The once Evil Queen had allowed herself to go numb then, hidden by barrels and rope. Henry was safe, happy to see them—_all_ of them—and the supposed 'heroes' had no need for her now. In her hiding spot she found herself privy to the morons' tearful reunion and summary of events as well as the not-unexpected kiss between the Swan and her self-denied _'boyfriend.'_

Well, she'd expected it, and Regina was fairly certain that Charming was grudgingly unsurprised. But Neal—Baelfire—whatever Emma's baby daddy called himself, decided that it was his duty to intervene.

Each person played their parts and she sat to the side, forgotten. As usual.

Regina supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised. The heroes had their happy ending, she sort-of got one as well, and that that was that. Once they arrived in Storybrooke both Robin and Gold were given over to the care of one Doctor Whale nee' Frankenstein, and she'd gone back to work.

Emptying out her desk in the town hall, for the most part, though there had also been other tasks to attend to.

Because much as she hated to admit it, the _Savior_ was right. If she wanted Henry in her life…she would have to make some changes. Which means righting a lot of wrongs, according to her irksome stepdaughter.

She didn't care. Numbness was just another emotion, exchanged only when she spent time with her son. Letters had been sent, and Regina knew that she had no talent for kindness this late in the game so they came out blunt, sharp, and cruel. They were basically summons demanding silent attendance, a heavy unspoken threat backing each missive.

But as each of her victims appeared at different times and different days before her father's graveyard plot, it was with surprise that they found themselves the recipients of a pine box a piece and then sent on their merry little fairytale way. Finding out for themselves what was inside only after they were out of sight and she didn't have to face the results of her folly.

Because it really was folly; stupidity in the form of self-made shackles. She was, essentially, giving away her hold over them—literally—her power and her credibility lessened with each act of "charity."

True, Regina Mills would always be the Evil Queen—there was no changing that, just as there was no bringing back the dead. Never mind Whale's recent 'successes'—and she would always have the power to kill them all, latent though present, but here was at least one thing she could do. A way to make restitution to Henry, if no one else.

She didn't care what anyone thought. He was the only one who mattered.

Which didn't explain why she felt so impressed to visit Granny's Diner just before close, nursing a cold cup of coffee.

She'd been at home after another 'package drop,' the echoing silence chasing her in the form of whispers and thoughts. Anxiety sent her heart racing, having no purpose and no source. It made no sense at all—after all, what was there for her to be afraid of? Her mother was dead, Rumpelstiltskin was powerless, and the two idiots were so wrapped up in their happy ending to remember that the 'Evil Queen' was on the loose.

Still, she'd left her home—house, _house_—as though a wraith was at her heels, something driving her to the only glowing neon sign in the darkness (with the exception of 'The Rabbit hole' and even she wasn't that desperate for company).

The other patrons took it as a cue to leave when she crept in and not much longer after the other staff had cut and run. Even Red Riding Hood, dressed in a button-down shirt and black jeans, had ditched after a nod from her grandmother.

Leaving the two remaining women alone.

The radio they regularly had going behind the counter was silent, the small-town streets of Storybrooke were completely clear, and Regina had a vacant mausoleum to return to—the same building she had just run from.

Rent and possession and land titles were pretty much null and void now that magic had returned and Mr. Gold was no longer the dark one, demanding the rent, but if there was one thing certain it was that her home was hers—created based on her specifications and wishes. They could contest her for her title as Mayor and Queen, but that place belonged to Regina from the ground up.

Too bad it was empty.

It hadn't seemed that way when Henry was young, exploring every corner and niche of the estate and coming up with stories wilder than their magical counterparts. She hadn't felt alone when he was there, the absence of Daniel not quite as sharp a pain. But with her son gone most of the week—split four ways, between the Charmings, Emma in her new apartment, plus Neal and the 'Rumpels', and of course herself—it was as icy as her father's grave.

Even the 'tavern' of her former enemy was a warmer place than the cold of her conscience.

Too bad even that couldn't last for long, she thought to herself as the clock chimed ten—closing time.

Granny's groan made her look up just as the biddy sat herself down across from the Queen—whether Regina wanted her in the booth or not. She hadn't heard the sound of the door being locked nor the till counted down, her mind far away and yet nowhere in specific.

Opening her mouth to instinctively demand the peasant's removal, she instead snapped her mouth shut and looked away. Because starting a fight with the proprietor also meant having to leave and she didn't think she was ready for that yet. Not for at least another ten minutes more.

When she turned back the widow was gazing at her approvingly, her fingers folded together.

Lucas had carried a coffee pot and a hot pad over while Regina hadn't noticed, filling the mayor's beverage as a wordless excuse for her presence. Then widow merely waited.

Regina's expression became darker and more confused as the silence dragged on, her shoulders hunching in on themselves until finally she couldn't hold the words back, sharp and defensive, "yes? Can I help you with something, _Granny?_"

The older woman's shrug was eloquent, "I was about to ask you the same thing. After all, you're the one who came in here, wanting to talk."

Regina's first instinct was to scoff, "who said I wanted to talk?" Her red nails tapped against her cup, and absently the sorceress noted that the paint had chipped.

"You," strong fingers motioned toward her cup, belaying the years she'd seen, "you don't know it but you're a creature of habit," her physical jerk back was met with a dry snort, "you kept trying to kill Snow until you got it right. You do the same things over and over again. No plan, no purpose. So when you break out of the mold, people notice." She shrugged.

The dark-haired woman was flabbergasted, "I don't know what you're ta-!"

"Today you asked for coffee with sugar and cream—usually you take it black," her observation was blunt and cool, pointing at her, "you usually come in at 8 AM sharp to pick up a cup to go and nothing else. Today you also ordered a cookie—dark chocolate chip. Henry's with the Charmings today," the aged werewolf noted her flinch, "so your only company is your own thoughts. And now you came into _my_ diner just before we close—_knowing_ that we've closed at _exactly the same time_ for twenty-eight years. At your command, I'd like to remind you."

The word 'command' was a mockery, given that it had been magically compulsive. Raised eyebrows practically challenged her to argue but all she could do was scowl, biting back the impulse to cross her arms like a petulant teenager.

Then something shifted in the woman's pale eyes, becoming speculative.

"Does it have anything to do with that fine-looking young archer being released from the hospital?" Lucas asked out of the blue, expression turning arch and knowing.

Regina's jaw dropped, "wha-of course not! Besides, how do _you_ know about his release?"

Her smirk was smug and more than a little ironic, putting her hands on her wide hips like the former iron maiden she was, "_Mayor_, I would be very much surprised if _anyone living here_ didn't know about it—small towns are rumor mills. No pun intended. Any news is breaking news, especially in a place where _no one can leave_ and no new bachelors move in. Yet in the past few months we've had August, Hook, Neal, and now Robin."

She looked ready to respond to that, but instead closed her mouth with a grimace.

"Besides, it was all the fairies could talk about," Granny huffed with exasperation, "Siste—_Nova_ and that new girl, Tinkerbell, I mean. They've been going on and on about it. The 'nuns,' 'though you wouldn't know it with all the flirting Pinky's been doing with Leroy."

Regina grimaced. _Ew._ The thought of that sweaty dwarf and a nun—well, _fairy_—of all people…

"But what's really interesting is that we have a new man in town who loves kids, especially _his_ kid, a good man, yet it seems that the meddling fireflies have been turning the single ladies aside; saying he's off limits," her eyebrows rose again, "General consensus is that you might know something about it."

_That little be-winged gossipmonger_, Regina thought furiously with a sudden urge to smash her porcelain mug to the floor. But the rage soon passed into emotional exhaustion, leaving her to scowl at the darkness through the diner window.

Keeping her tone as flat as she was able, the former mayor stated coolly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Granny snorted, "right. And Red's not making designs on Hopper as we speak, poor boy," there was a short, braying laugh, "I wasn't born yesterday, _Your Majesty_, nor was a I born in a barn."

Could have fooled her.

"Look, I understand what you're doing. Trying to…to find out the truth in the rumor. But there's nothing between me and that _thief_," she tried to infuse as much disdain as she possibly could into the statement, but her voice still shook and she clutched her cup fiercely.

Her opposite went silent for so long that sheer curiosity tore her away from her blank stare at the window. Then nearly blanched at Widow Lucas' actual expression of sympathy, of all things.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" she asked quietly once she had Regina's attention, "looking for a way to throw the Evil Queen to the sharks?"

The younger female blinked, "well, yes."

Granny sighed, pinching the space between her eyebrows. After a few minutes' notice she finally looked up, eyes tired, "when was the last time someone just wanted to talk to you for no other reason than to talk to you, Regina?"

It was odd hearing her say her name so familiarly, Mills noticed then for some reason. It threw her off for a moment, halting thought. She then opened her mouth to respond, ready to retort until she realized that no immediate instances came to mind.

Sure, she and Swan had _actually_ carried a conversation to fruition while in the forest but even that had had a means to an end—to figure out why she was so reluctant to meet Tinkerbell. A similar talk had involved Robin Hood himself. Before that she couldn't even begin to remember a time when someone just…spoke to her.

Maybe the day when Henry was admitted to the hospital—but at that time it had just been medical worries between her and Whale. There was also the hug forced on her by Kathryn Nolan, but that whole connection had been initiated for the express intent of sowing dissent. Now that Midas' daughter remembered who she was they barely made eye contact these days, well aware that Abigail been only a tool to get between Snow and Charming.

Her own mother had hardly given her the time of day outside planning the destruction of their enemies. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like growing up with one actually possessing a heart. Worrying how things might have been different, or worse, how they might have also remained the same. Those scant seconds of love had been bittersweet, but they told Regina that Cora _did actually_ love her, her daughter! If only…if only everything hadn't been against them. Time, their own actions, the _heroes_ themselves.

Widow Lucas' voice brought her back to the present.

"Look, I am by no means an expert on love," she looked uncomfortable, "as you aren't the only widow who was in a loveless marriage, not that I'll have Ruby knowing that, mind you. And I know that to you feeling is probably a weakness, but…why not give it a chance if it's there?"

Her observation felt like a slap in the face. And behind Widow Lucas' low voice came a deeper tone.

"_Then love again."_

Daniel's anguished face swam before her gaze before she blinked it away, looking back at the window as she willed the tears in her eyes to disappear. It was hard when her heart began racing, an image of her mother plunging her hand into his chest appearing as though it had just happened. Her breathing grew quicker and more anxious as she stared into her own reflection until, suddenly, she recognized an increased warmth on her hand not coming from her cup. Regina blinked down at where Granny's hand was pressed to hers as though not understanding its purpose there. Finally her mind translated that this was to be a form of comfort, and Regina blinked up at her reluctant companion.

She couldn't translate what was on Granny's face at first, her eyes and mouth a strange mix of sad and bitter. Before she could think to ask the older woman had already started speaking.

"Did anyone ever tell you about how Red found out about her curse?"

"No. No one has."

"I feel like it might be best if you two talk," she hesitated a moment, "it's not my place to stay—not my story to tell. But for all the bad blood, you might want to hear her story."

It was enough to break the moment between them and Regina coughed, pulling her hands away, "maybe some other time."

This move seemed to irk the older woman, so with an exasperated little huff she went on, "knowing you, that conversation's not likely to happen. So I'll just say this—you're not the only one to be the accidental cause of your love's death. You may blame Snow, but it's so that you don't blame yourself."

Ire brought flashes of flame to Regina's eyes as she drew herself up, ready to argue. The old lady cut her off.

"But just because your love resulted in death in the past doesn't mean it's going to happen again. There's a risk in love, _but it's better than being alone_. Take it from someone who's never found love at all—cherish it when you find it," Granny's rage-filled strength collapsed in on herself as she pulled her hands back in, folding them in front of her. Regina noticed for the first time the existence of a slight, elderly tremble, and Lucas' eyes glittered with tears that never fell.

She stared at the former Queen as though waiting for some admission; a promise of some kind. But all Mills had to give her was change for her coffee.

Placing a large bill on the table between them, Regina nodded her thanks and went to leave, purse tugged over her shoulder. Even as the vault surrounding her heart grew tighter still.

"Sorry about keeping you late. Keep the change."

~/~/~

AN: I don't know where this came from. –shrugs helplessly- Honestly, I kept getting comments about a follow-up and I was thinking, "sorry, but it's a one-shot." Then my brain was all, "hmm, I wonder what WOULD happen after chapter one?" and this came out. ^^; -embarrassed smile- There's probably going to be a chapter three, as well, and maybe a chapter four (but don't push your luck. –shakes finger mock-scoldingly-).

I felt that Regina needed some advice from someone who wasn't about to put up with any attitude, picked Granny, and then realized that this was going to be a tough conversation. And that Regina was probably not going to sit for much of it. Still, she'd heard enough and it's going to get her thinking about things.

After all, Regina Mills has never been one to take the easy road. Just accepting happiness back into her life is much too simple.

Review if you can. Thanks muchly!


	3. Chapter 3

**The High Road**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "You mind telling me what that was?" "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan." "You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one."

Disclaimer: This is all speculation (and will probably be shot down by the mighty force that is Canon), and I don't own anything—ABC/Disney does. :)

~/~/~

Chapter 3 (And now for some Robin POV)

Robin groaned awake with two realizations. The first was that Roland had managed to sneak out of bed and into his own again, tucked like a puppy against his side. The second involved the knowledge that he didn't know where he was.

The bed he slept in was firstly comfortable, a contrast to the hard ground he'd become accustomed to. It neither sank in, like those few surviving mattresses they'd discovered in the Dark One's castle, nor had things sticking out of it—a trait shared by all straw-pallets he'd ever slept on.

The pillows were plush, the blankets soft, and the antiseptic smell of the little town's 'hospital' was absent.

The _hospital._

Realization let the anxious breath out of his lungs as memory came to him. He had required medical care. And, following that, the Prince and his companions arranged for temporary residence for the thief and his men.

He had been led to the local 'bed and breakfast,' the sign proclaimed, along with their one fighting female (Mulan originally was invited to stay with the fey folk, but had refused the offer with barely suppressed horror and a distinct degree of alacrity), and of course his son. Little John, Friar Tuck, and a few others took up those spare beds not occupied by other members of their previous party—one Captain Jones alias' Hook (not that he was one to judge. He doubted that Hood was a real surname in anyone's book), and Neal.

A man whom seemed to have a more conflicted history than he had first let on, Rumpelstiltskin's son and Emma's former love aside.

The remainder of his merry band found a place with certain dwarven characters, apparently, a fact that should have surprised him yet didn't. It seemed that this 'Storybrooke' had all types.

The knowledge of the curse was no surprise to him—the truth of the matter was evident in the abandoned homes and towns of the Enchanted Forest. But seeing the results for himself was…a novel experience.

For it seemed that not just the good and faithful were trapped, but the false and the guilty as well. He'd already run into the Sheriff of Nottingham and a few of his regular 'victims of generosity' within the day or so since he'd been released from the hospital. Although the focus of his thoughts—the Evil Queen herself—seemed to be making herself scarce.

He'd met plenty of characters both familiar and unfamiliar—townspeople who were still townspeople, firstly. Royalty which now held jobs without a second thought, and magical beings which were amazingly mundane and didn't seem to mind the change all that much. They even took the presence of thieves among them in stride, as though they'd, "been there, done that," according to his hostess' world-weary granddaughter.

There really was no need to steal from the rich to give to the poor in this place, the most amazing marvel of it all. While much of the rest of this world did in part seem to deal with the trial of poverty and famine, according to the Lady Swan, it seemed that Storybrooke was exempt of this particular aspect of their former lives. Both the rich and the poor had banded together for the most part—or at least agreed to cohabitate. They weren't alone in their sufferings, after all.

At least to the extent where all had access to clean, running water and most individuals had a bed in which to sleep in.

No, his 'occupation' was entirely unneeded in a place such as this, and should he attempt it…well, the irony of an ally arresting him or his men was amusing but not altogether productive. Which left him strangely without any plan of action.

Too long they'd focused on survival—against the elements, famine, ogres and of course the sting of royal dictates. But in this place he and his men had no work to do; even the supposed villains had little interest in causing harm ('little' being the operative word, and it seemed that in this world they were proficient at less _permanent_ forms of 'backstabbing,' according to his heroic sources).

The sound of shuffling steps outside his door tore Robin from his thoughtful perusal of the ceiling—not thatch, but plaster, he marveled—his hand absently brushing back Roland's hair as the child slept blissfully on.

Lifting himself up just enough to spy the entryway, he glimpsed a shadow move just below the door. It stood there a moment before crouching low, a piece of bone-white parchment slipped through the crack beneath. Then the presence was gone, shuffling away once again.

Climbing out of bed silently, careful not to wake his son, Robin Locksley unfolded the missive then blinked at the message found within.

Well!What was this?

~/~/~

It wasn't difficult to find the Rabbit Hole. After all, though Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest were worlds apart an establishment such as this translated easily. It helped that the instructions were presented in the form of landmarks, he being unfamiliar with the Storybrooke road system. The note said sundown, and thus it was that the evening light filtered through the bar's glittering panes of glass. Windows such as these could be found inset in manor walls or sometimes a well-to-do church, yet the costly material—colored or clear—seemed prevalent everywhere he looked.

And this was only the most minor of marvels, now that he was out and about, no longer trapped in bed. The paved streets fascinated him in their practicality, clearing much of the muck regularly tracked into homes and gathering places. Heat without a definite source was amazing, and the mechanized carriages everyone seemed to drive were startling puzzles.

Yet the patrons of Storybrooke walked past them all with nary a blink, as though they were everyday occurrences. He supposed that in a way they were—the curse had acclimated them.

Regardless, he wasn't about to test out how they worked. His feet could take him where he needed to go just fine, as they always had.

The interior of the building was just as he'd expected, only more resplendent, the noise a familiar kind of raucousness and drinks flowing freely. He knew from the note to search out a table with a book on it, and there it was, laying open for anyone to peruse.

Not knowing what else to do, Robin scanned the area first before pulling out a chair. Then he began to read.

The section he was open to was titled, "The Miller's Daughter," and seemed to be about the child of a sorceress who desired that she take a more entitled path. The love story between the girl and a stableman was simple and sweet, marred only by her familial connections. Becoming engrossed in the tale, Robin nearly forgot for a moment where he was until a folded paper, twin to the one he bore, was thrown down across the page. It cut off an illustration of the girl racing after a runaway horse, sending him shooting up from his chair with an instant hand on his dagger.

Blue eyes, the color of forget-me-nots, stared at him coldly.

"You mind telling me what this is about, mate?" the question was terse, hard. In return the thief made certain that his legs were planted, stance ready for a fight.

"I haven't the faintest idea, _mate_," hands deliberate and slow, Locksley withdrew his own summons with the hand not on his weapon. And with a sigh the hostility went out of the both of them. Jones, former ally that he was, nodded and scrubbed at his hair. Then, scraping a stool closer to the table, he unceremoniously sat.

So it was that the thief looked up at his opposite curiously, whilst shifting within the new leather 'jacket' David had provided him. Both of them had already been changed by this world, it seemed, having exchanged pieces of their apparel for this world's counterparts. Yet Hook still bore his trademark trench coat and Robin had settled for maintaining his braces and bow. They were men out of time and place, the two of them, yet it seemed that Jones was far more comfortable in the new environs. Mayhap it was due to 300 years of expecting the unexpected.

"So," the Captain stated, cannonballing through the other man's thoughts, "we both seem to have received a letter of instruction. If neither of us sent for the other, who sent the missives?"

"I believe that I can answer that," the voice was juvenile, cracking midway as a surprising third party pulled up—looking up at the two men with cheerful expectancy.

Hook shot Robin a look, "Henry. Lad. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you guys," he stated simply, crossing his arms against the table.

It was Robin's turn, "while we…appreciate the sentiment, you might yet be too young for this establishment."

"It's okay," the youth assured, "Humpty Dumpty and I go way back. I fixed his crown for him," he sent a wave at the bartender as though that explained everything. The man was as of that moment scooping hot cocoa out of a tin and into a clear stein, only to add in what appeared to be boiling water from a kettle.

Both rogues sat back in their seats, mentally saying goodbye to all their expectations of the meeting—terse company, fierce stares, and cold liquor.

Probably not the best choice when in the presence of a minor. Particularly this minor, the child connected to both good and evil forces. The thought caught Robin unawares, sticking in his mental craw, though he didn't have much time to ponder it as Henry began to speak.

"So, I figure you're probably wondering why I asked for you guys to come."

Ask was a bit of a loose term, the marksman decided, thinking about the terse challenge spelled out in strangely printed letters. If anything he'd thought the call was a command.

But apparently Hook had already caught on, his brows bridging in a frown, "this is about Emma and Regina, isn't it?"

Robin's head lifted in surprise, "what?"

"It's the only thing to connect us," the pirate motioned between the three males, "the lad thinks to intervene with our interest in his mothers."

Robin Hood nearly fell out of his seat, "_what?!_"

"Actually," Henry shrugged, "I'm not intervening. I'm helping."

Which was even more shocking than the thought that…that…well, certainly there was a connection between them, that much he had seen within the span of their introduction and short battle together. And while he was willing to give her a chance to prove herself, he hadn't made any indication of a serious romantic nature, he believed.

Beyond kissing her hand within plain sight of the boy, that is.

And possibly asking after her upon finally waking.

Blast.

"We can call it, 'Operation Unicorn,'" Henry continued cheerily, pulling the open book to his side and flipping rapidly through the chapters. Almost unnoticed, the bartender slipped the mug of hot cocoa next to the lad's elbow, topped with some sort of fluffy white substance and a flecking of a spicy herb of some kind.

The captain was the first to react, one brow shooting skyward, "operation uni-."

"Because Unicorns can heal anything or break any curse," he stated matter-of-factly, tapping a page of his all-seeing tome, "like Lake Nostros."

The page bore an image of the lake as few had seen it, glimmering with vitality and…inhabited with the presence of a certain man-eating siren. Robin had heard the tales; both of its existence and how the foul creature was destroyed in an effort to revive Midas' daughter's love.

(It had been Abigail whom had checked them into the bed and breakfast; she was working part time at the place when Red was needed elsewhere.)

"You see, my mom's the Miller's Daughter," Henry looked at Robin directly, as though drilling the information into him.

"The…" he blinked rapidly, taking that in with a start. The tale he'd been reading immediately came to mind, along with his impressions of it—a girl unfairly pressured, a simple love likely to not end well. To find out that it was more than a story…well, that was certainly something.

"Yeah, this one," he tipped the large volume in the thief's direction, and it seemed like it was the first time Hook had even noticed it. But Robin, his mouth was already going dry, "you see, every person who lives here was under the curse. Terrible things happened to them."

"Yes, we are aware of that," the single father shared a look with the pirate, "go on."

"But all of their stories are in here. Mary Margaret—my grandma, Snow White—she gave this to me. And it's how I knew that everyone was from a fairy tale. And that only my mom—_Emma_ could save everyone. The thing is, I know your stories, too. So now that the curse is broken, you can have a happy ending."

"Lad—."

"Young man—."

Neither adult was sure who spoke first, but Henry ignored them both.

"The biggest thing is that Dad and Daniel were their _first_ loves. And you can truly love more than one person—otherwise we wouldn't have been able to break the curse, since I'm technically Emma's 'True Love,'" he shrugged and took a large chug of his drink. Hook seemed to understand, looking slightly surprised, but honestly Robin was still in the dark as to what he meant about that last bit, "And Peter Pan, well, he planned the whole thing between Neal and Mom so that I could be born. So it doesn't really count. And Tinkerbell used Pixie Dust to find Mom's—_Regina's_ True Love, and it was a guy with a Lion Tattoo."

Robin straightened slightly, forcing himself not to cover his forearm. Jones, however, still caught the slight move, looking at him curiously.

"But she never went into the inn, 'cause she was scared. And that's you," hazel eyes looked at Robin pointedly, "the nuns have been going crazy about it."

He blinked, "t-the _nuns?_"

Hook groaned as he pressed his single hand to the bridge of his nose, massaging the spot as though it was in pain, "…the blasted fairies."

"Exactly! You see, magic doesn't lie."

"Nor does it seem to do me any favors," Locksley sighed, still reeling. The concept of him being the Evil Queen's True Love was…well…he didn't know how to feel about it. Although he had an inkling that if he and Jones had drinks, the captain would salute him in agreement.

"Just think of it this way—every story has a damsel in distress—or just…you know, someone who needs saving. And they do," his shrug was knowing, "not that they'd admit it."

Hook's laugh was a sharp bark, as harsh as his expression was wry, "lad, I hate to break it to you, but Swan and Regina…they may be the two lasses _least_ in need of aid."

"That's what they _want_ you to think," he said knowledgeably, "Emma and my mom—The Evil Queen—they've been alone a long time. I mean, they're used to dealing with everything on their own. And whenever they get close to someone they pull back—because they don't want to get hurt! Because they've been hurt before, when people betray them or leave them."

That did sound about right, Robin thought, based on his handful of interactions with Regina. And Jones seemed to be looking contemplatively gazing over the boy's head, fiddling with his hook simultaneously.

"So you guys need to just prove them wrong," he said in finality, as though that settled everything, "and I'm going to help you."

There was a brief, if deliberate pause as the two men wondered who should break things to him. Particularly in such a tricky situation, involving a youth they had nearly given up their lives saving previously. There was just no easy way to go about it.

"Shouldn't you be telling B-Neal these things?" Hook asked carefully, dealing with his…dilemma first. The boy's response was blunt and direct.

"No. Why should I? I mean, just because he's my dad doesn't mean he's the best thing for my mom," the boy shrugged, "would you say that Milah should have gone back to Mr. Gold?"

The question was like a firebrand, shooting Jones up in his seat, "now, lad, that's not-."

"Because if she had he wouldn't have met Belle. And she wouldn't have met you. I mean, it makes you sad, and Mr. Gold did the wrong thing, but weren't there also some happy parts?"

Hook swallowed hard, sitting again.

"It's all in the book. Everybody has the chance for a happy ending. And now that Emma broke the curse, there's hope for _everyone_. For both of you," the boy glanced eagerly from one lawless man to the other, but both were stony, impassive.

Robin broke first, sighing, "look, Henry. Life, and especially love, isn't as simple as that. Though I do not know Emma or Hook well—and Neal only marginally so—the fact of the matter is that in the end it will be _her_ choice. Not any of ours."

The boy was stubborn, "but what about you and my mom—it's True Love, everyone's saying it, and pixie dust doesn't lie."

Not sure whom 'everyone' was, Locksley set that thought aside, "be that as it may, that was a very long time ago—long before the curse was cast. While we may have been…possible then, that may not be the case anymore. Your mother—Regina," he added for clarification, given that they were dealing with two mothers currently, "has made choices in her life which have led her down a dark path. A path I long-since rejected. The cost was too much."

"Which is why you need to heal her!" Henry responded with adamant certainty," give her something worth fighting for. I mean, she's tried a few times to do the right thing—for me," he added in a quieter tone, looking down at his clenched paws, "but. It's never really…stuck. You know?" he grimaced, "it's still just too easy to go back. And…she's like a person on drugs. She just needs someone to help her. A companion."

He wasn't quite certain what drugs were, to be honest, but they sounded very much like his father's affinity for the bottle. Which made the situation all the more complicated.

Robin wet his lips to speak, but the boy beat him to it.

"Besides, you didn't see the way she looked at you when you got hurt."

His jaw dropped for a moment before he swallowed, turning to the honest pirate, "what…what's this he's talking about?"

Hook was clearly reluctant, arms folded and a heavy sigh weighing him down. But after scratching at his beard not once but twice, he nodded, "aye, the lad is telling the truth. When you fell she guarded you like a dragon over gold…or a mermaid over a downed corpse."

_Lovely _thought.

"Until your crew took over your care, that is. And after you fell…she took out a swathe of Lost Boys."

The single father blinked, forcing his emotions to remain still. For the fact of the matter was that they really were too different. Certainly there was a spark—he wasn't about to deny it. But neither was he going to chase after it.

"Lad, while I admire your pluck in wanting the best for your mothers," and didn't that title sound odd in plural, he thought to himself, "if there's one thing I've learned in this world it is that we don't always get what we want. Sometimes there is no happy ending available."

Across from him Jones had slumped into his seat, brows meeting across a tortured visage. What Robin was saying hurt them both, but really had to be said.

Henry's eyes were clear, however, undaunted by the truth Robin of Locksley spoke, "it's a good thing I'm the Truest Believer, then. Don't say I didn't warn you."

With that the boy threw down the dregs of his cocoa, snatched up his book and strode out. Leaving the two men to seek stronger drink.

~/~/~

AN: Sorry about all the description! D: I sat down to write and Robin kind of did this Nightmare Before Christmas-esque, "What's this, what's this?" kind of montage. XD And then when I was all like, "okay, let's cut some of this out," he stopped my hand and said something along the lines of, "no, I kind of like seeing the world from my point of view." _ Alright then, Robin of the Hood.


	4. Chapter 4

**The High Road**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "You mind telling me what that was?" "I can't even begin to know what you're talking about, Swan." "You. And Robin Hood. That was a pretty big flinch if I've ever seen one."

Disclaimer: This is all speculation (and will probably be shot down by the mighty force that is Canon), and I don't own anything—ABC/Disney does. :)

~/~/~

Chapter 4 (It's a long one.)

This had become her favorite place, Regina decided. After dark, that is. Before…well, before the sun set the _good townspeople_ were still out and about, their children playing on Henry's playground.

For it truly was Henry's. She'd had it made for him on the grounds (no pun intended) that they needed a new one. The 'Castle' had almost been a representation of all that she wished to give him—her kingdom, so to speak. Never mind the fact that it was also yet another way to get back at Swan at the time.

In hindsight those battles against one another didn't seem to matter much after what they'd fought for _together_, though.

Thus on days when Emma had Henry he visited the Sheriff's Office ie the Jail—a detail not lost on her—and on Regina's days she took him to, among other locales, his playground. It just so happened that she visited it on other days, too.

Especially now that her 'coffers' were empty, so to speak. There was no more need to meet up with past 'victims' because she had no more hearts to give.

Literally and proverbially.

Hopper had offered to treat her again just the other day, which she supposed was the next logical step. (Well, that and releasing those locked away in the mental institution below the hospital. Which she had—the ones that were safe to do so, anyway.) But there was something about the whole process which made her feel as though she was being talked down to. As though she was a child; unaware of the impact her actions had on others.

She wasn't dense—she knew what she'd done and would do it again in a heartbeat if it weren't for Henry. And the almost accidental support system which had resulted of Neverland's truce. It wasn't that Regina was unaware—she was. She just didn't like being patronized any more than she liked feeling powerless.

So instead the former Evil Queen took her solace out here, in the quiet solitude of night. The isolation was less oppressive than at the house and with the playground before her Regina could well imagine that she was at her _real_ home, spires rising high out of a similarly dark castle.

Of course, some nights were quieter than others. With the weather clear and only slightly cool with the onset of autumn most nocturnal animals were waking .The flapping of an owl's wings of the glint of fur as a raccoon wandered by were welcome distractions, particularly when compared to their human counterparts.

Sniffles interrupted such thoughts, though, eliciting a frown from the Evil Queen.

Rising from her bench with all the acumen of a parent, Regina cautiously made her way forward to the playset itself. The swings and walkway were bare, but the closer she got the louder the sound became. Forlorn and echoing slightly.

The tube.

Carefully climbing up onto the raised deck in unfortunately high heels, she peered into the tunnel, spying movement. Light came in through the spherical holes along the side, glinting off of what could be a jacket or shirt, but just as abruptly all movement went still.

She kneeled, trying to make herself smaller almost instinctively. Then, with a smile that was friendly and welcoming, she said, "well, hello there. Where are your mother and father?"

The shadow said nothing, merely shaking its head as sniffles made way for hiccups. Wide, white eyes glittered wetly in the dark, moonlight skittering off of a pale cheek.

Conjuring a candy bar behind her back, the former Mayor brought it forward with careful deliberation, "hey, are you hungry? I've got something for you. But you have to come out to get it."

Then maybe she'd know which irresponsible parent the kid belonged to. Of course, he or she was probably afraid of her—no thanks to the _wholesome_ citizens of her town—but there was no point in attempting force first. Not when bribery might work just as well.

Climbing in on hands and knees was improbable at best—she was in a pencil skirt of all things, and Regina could only imagine the headache she'd have the next morning upon trying to fit into a crawlspace meant for someone a third of her size. The only other option was magic and she wasn't looking forward to peeling the playground apart like a can of tuna to get the child out. And 'tugging' them forward through the plastic cylinder was too big a risk—especially when she'd only just tried to make some relative peace with the idiots of Storybrooke.

Just as Regina was imagining that she might have no choice but to use coercion there came the distinct sound of cloth rubbing against plastic. The toddler slid out with inching slowness, and all the while she maintained her friendly smile with impressive patience. Knowing that slow progress was better than none at all. Thus it was that she was rewarded with a tousled cap of curly dark hair, bright eyes peeking up from a cherub's face.

A certain feeling blossomed in her chest, filling it with air for a moment as she imagined another such boy beaming up at her from under the cover of blankets or hidden within a closet.

"_Mommy, you found me!"_

It seemed so long ago when Henry had looked up at her with such trust, when in reality it had only been a few seasons back. Everything changed the first school year he realized that he was progressing forward to new classes and new teachers while his peers remained in the same frozen state.

Feeling a crack in her smile, Regina forced more cheer into her voice as she fulfilled on her promise, "it's a pleasure to meet you, little one. I believe that you've earned this."

Red-painted lips turned up, she handed the child the chocolate bar. But he only seemed to fiddle with it, confusion furrowing over a normally smooth forehead. When he continued she carefully peeled back one corner of the gold foil, breaking off a piece and putting it in her mouth to demonstrate.

"See? It's yummy," his own nibble was tentative, but as soon as he'd taken a taste his gaze became wide. Then, grinning, he took another much large bite.

"Well!" Regina laughed, "it seems we have a fast learner."

His preoccupation also allowed her to examine him further on the off chance that she might recognize the boy. But no dice—even when mentally comparing him with the adults of the village there weren't any distinguishing features to give it away.

Sighing, Mayor Mills decided to opt for another route, "sweetheart, what are your parents' names?"

He looked up happily, gifting Regina with her first glimpse of the tear tracks running wetly down his cheeks, creating a lurch somewhere in her ribcage. They'd started drying, but there remained a faint pinkness against his otherwise pale skin. And his eyelashes were dark and damp, making the contrast of his smile all the more pointed.

She couldn't help but grin in return. That is, until he spoke.

"Papa!"

Her face faltered minutely. So, trying again, Regina asked, "and…who is your Mama?"

"Mama's resting in the stars."

Oh.

Well.

Not knowing what else to do, Regina rose. The boy registered the movement with little apprehension now that he'd officially found an ally. The Queen, in turn, was busy tugging her cell phone out of her purse, pounding in a series of digits she had reluctantly memorized—only to receive nothing more than a voicemail.

"_This is Sheriff Swan. Leave a message if you want me to actually get back to you. Thanks."_

The beep was as sharp and abrasive as the speaker herself. Mills grimaced before speaking.

"Swan. This is Ma—Regina. I'd like to report a missing child. Or a found child, or—anyway, whatever," she checked the park for any other presence but it was as empty as it had been before, "he has curly brown hair and looks maybe four or five. I found him in the park. Call me back as soon as possible—you have my number by now."

After that she had no other option but to hang up, having done her duty. And then the single mother was left with a strange child on her hands. The thought that she should drop him off with Snow and her Moron was momentary, given how much she was loathe to see them and particularly after what she had walked in on _the last time_. Then there were any number of places Emma could be—particularly if the pirate or Gold's brat were involved.

She'd become grudgingly accepting of Swan and her overall trustworthiness after Neverland but the fact of the matter was that Hook had been hanging around, "deputizing," of all things. The irony was too much to think on, especially after their shared, "well, it sucks to be a villain," discussion aboard the Jolly Roger. So she opted to ignore his "abandoning ship" instead.

With all of her options spent there really was no other recourse but to take the child home.

He could sleep in Henry's room, she decided—her son was with 'The Rumpels' tonight, so that left her with an empty bed to spare. An empty, welcoming bed, fully of all the things which little boys adored. Mills doubted that any of her guest rooms would instill a feeling of safety in the child but Henry's bedroom was full of color and life, elements otherwise devoid in the rest of the house.

Having done her civic duty, the magic user lowered herself to her knees once more, holding out one manicured hand, "c'mon, sweetheart. Let's get you home. We can get you something to eat, and warm you up all snug as a bug in a rug."

The keywords of 'home,' 'eat,' and 'warm' were like neon signs as his gaze lit up. Then the boy trustingly walked into Regina's arms, fingers and mouth sticky with chocolate.

But she found that she didn't mind all that much.

~/~/~

Robin was frantic. He'd left Friar Tuck with Roland at the inn so that he could convene with Swan and Jones on getting he and his Merry Band home again—given that they _clearly_ didn't belong in this world.

But when he'd arrived at their temporary residence, world weary and more than a little exasperated, it was to find the cleric asleep in front of the boxed magic mirror, some sort of sporting event transpiring. As for his son, the youth's trundle bed was empty and the window open.

Leading to his current predicament.

They'd split up into twos as soon as the alarm sounded, one duo at the docks, one in the city center, and the other espying Storybrooke's small "suburbia." He and Little John had taken the forest, their long familiarity with tracking surpassing that of his men. It had been this skill which led them to Roland's trail, searching at knee-height for broken branches and muddy footprints.

His son's tracks had taken them right up to an outdoor dwelling of some kind. It resembled a palace in some elements and a fort in others, a series of suspended bridges and hanging seats inserted into the design. It seemed to have no purpose that he could think of, so Robin assumed that the building must have something to do with recreation—those of this world were almost fixated on the activity, their need for survival taken care of.

Of course, it _would be_ the one edifice littered with foot treads which his son toddled to. But by some piece of desperate good luck he recognized a muddy boot print—Roland's clothing had been exchanged for modern counterparts but they had been unable to find shoes in his size, it being a long time since a child Roland's age lived in Storybrooke.

Thus he recognized the small indent of the lad's tiny feet, contrasting the patterned press of other shoes, telling Robin the story he needed to know.

Then it got interesting.

The boy's tracks ended at the dwelling and near the edge the thief discovered…the impression of heels. There were two types, those which were lighter, from walking, and others which were deeper. As though she—for it had to be a she based on the tread—was carrying an object of weight, such as a child.

Which gave him something to work with, the steps evident even as she had stepped off to the semi-damp pavement. And to a horseless carriage with rather distinct tread.

"Little John," Robin called him over, "I believe I have an idea of where to go next."

~/~/~

She woke first with the feeling of being overwarm and trapped. Her arm was numb for some reason, and sticky heat pressed all along her left side. Blinking slightly in the dim light, Storybrooke's streetlamps and passing cars splashed a faded glow against the wall. Regina could just barely see the small form, then, and in her hazy half-dreaming state she saw Henry there.

He used to crawl into bed with her when he had nightmares, tucking icy feet underneath the warmth of her own legs. When she dipped her head to brush a kiss against his head the texture was wrong, though, a curly mop contrasting with the smooth strands of her son.

It was enough to wake her fully, and the realization nearly broke Regina's heart; that it wasn't Henry snuggled at her side but rather a lost boy from the park. Ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes, the former Queen carefully slid her arm out from under him, throat clenching when he made a sound of loss, little brows furrowed.

But if she didn't leave now she would break out into sobs—the dam was about to break, she could tell.

Making sure the little boy was tucked in first, Regina crawled across the mattress and to her closet, tying on a robe as though knotting her own noose. Then, tiptoeing down the stairs as though wolves were at her heels, she made her way to the kitchen.

She had to do something—get her hands busy—until her feelings settled. Until she was strong enough to move the child from her room back to Henry's.

Her first priority was a pan and the ingredients for a pie crust. Flour, sugar, salt, shortening, and water. She had a basket of apples on the counter and pulled out a paring knife automatically—the act of peeling them in long, curling strips was calming; methodical. With every turn of her wrist she poured feeling into it, till she was drained of everything but single-minded focus. It was the same with spell-work—if feeling was magic then she poured every ounce of her rage, sorrow, and fear into it. Feeding the source of all her power.

At least, with cooking, there was nothing there to demand more of her.

Once the materials she needed were pulled out and prepped, she took a slight break. Pulling out a glass to help her drown, Regina hesitated between wine and apple-flavored vodka before deciding on somewhere in between—hard cider. The bottle was cool beneath her lips, head thrown back and stemware momentarily forgotten—until a prickle on the back of her neck made her pause.

Lowering the beverage from her mouth, she slowly turned to find Robin Hood lounging against her far counter, one leg indolently folded over the other and hands clasped loosely in front of him. His weapon lay on the countertop as though it had been initially drawn and then was innocently set aside, arrow tucked into the cradle of its string.

The owner in question was looking at her expectantly.

"Hello, Your Majesty."

She set down the bottle she had been favoring and pulled out the vodka, then poured herself a glass of something stronger. She was going to need it.

Especially given the fact that she was in her silver nightgown and robe, feet bare, while he had donned a leather jacket, jeans, and open-collared green button-up. The boots were the same, though, as were the bracers, but it didn't take away the feeling of being suddenly crowded in. Nor the scent of forest and night and even grass which he had brought in with him. But no horse—_thank heavens_, there was no smell of horse anywhere about him. The mountain man persona was hard enough to ignore, cutting into the pristine world she'd created for herself, she didn't think she could handle reminders of Daniel as well.

Throwing back a gulp of her new beverage, Regina nearly choked for a moment, coughing into the back of her hand as she hastily set the stemware aside. When she peeked up at him again it was to find that Robin had taken a step forward, though she didn't know why.

To pat her on the back, maybe? To make sure that she was okay? Or maybe to incapacitate her while she was distracted? Regina would never know.

Letting out one last cough, the former mayor ran her fingers over her robe's knotted sash before asking, arms folded, "Robin Hood. What are you doing here?"

_I thought I expressed how much I _didn't _want to speak to you the last time you foisted your presence upon me._

The words went unspoken, but were clear as day in her pointed disinterest. And the way that her eyes flicked to the knife she'd left on the closest surface.

He laughed lightly, if anything settling more fully into his position against the nearby counter—honestly she wouldn't be surprised if there were elbow-prints burned into the granite the next time she turned around.

"Well, as much as I wish that this was a _social call_," his expression was more than a little ironic, "I regret to inform you that I've come on business. You see, I believe that you have something of mine."

Her immediate response was to frown, arms closing in even tighter till she was sure she was leaving bruises, "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't taken anything of yours and if you're really that adamant about searching the place then I suggest you speak to the _Sheriff_ in the morning. After all, it seems like you might actually be on good terms with _this one_."

By the end of her little speech his eyebrows were lifted impressively. Then Robin _laughed_ of all things, scratching his beard a moment, and looked up at her again.

"Well," he began shortly, "it seems that I've gone about this all wrong. Let me begin again. My _son,_ _Roland_," he paused, emphasizing the words, "seems to have toddled off while I was attending to matters. I believe that you may have found him."

The surprise she felt was nearly a blow, leaving her gaping and speechless—at least for a moment.

Robin had already continued, "I checked the rooms not occupied and found no trace of him, but as his boots are clearly at the door—."

"_You searched my home?!_"

"—I figured it best to ask the lady of the house herself," ignoring her outburst and now-irate features, he merely shrugged, "so. Do you by chance know the location of my child? This tall, curly hair?"

She was clearly fighting back the desire to shout a litany of insults at him, if the hands on hips and heavy breathing were any indication. Finally, looking toward the ceiling in an effort to avoid looking at him entirely, Regina Mills gritted out, "he's in my room. I put him in Henry's bed but he…climbed out. You'll find him there."

"You have my thanks, your Majesty," bowing slightly, a grand move not quite matching his changed attired, the thief made to exit. Regina's words stopped him cold.

"I'm not. A royal. So you don't have to call me that."

He paused, turning to glance at her over his shoulder, "Mayor Mills, then?"

The dark-haired woman snorted, "not that either. By popular vote."

He blinked slowly before sighing, moving back to the counter and settling back in as he climbed onto the top surface itself.

Regina frowned in confusion, taking a step back, "what…what are you doing?"

Robin's look was innocent, brows raised, "I'm sitting."

"I can see that, thank you very much," she huffed, crossing her arms, "the question is _why?_"

The taller figure shrugged carelessly, "well, you obviously want to talk."

Her first and most immediate response was to scoff, "who said I wanted to talk?"

"You did," he nodded.

Her look was careful, eyes slitted as her mind processed the moment, "…have you spoken with Granny lately?"

"Granny?" he asked with some confusion, "I'm rather certain there are more than one in this town, so I'm not sure-?"

"_Granny._ The Widow Lucas. The owner of the establishment _that you're staying at_," she remarked pointedly, arms crossed.

Understanding cleared his expression, "ah, Granny. I'm not familiar with her beyond the usual polite greetings. Why do you ask?"

She opened her mouth only to snap it shut, turning to the side to sip from her glass. When she set it back down it was with a little too much force, cracking the base. Cursing mentally, Regina finished off the dregs before tossing it in the garbage. Only then, wiping down the spotless countertop—just in case—did she answer him.

"No reason."

"Hmm," his eyebrows rose a degree, arms folded as Robin thoughtfully nodded, "well, regardless of whether I have been speaking with Madame Lucas or no, I _have_ spoken with your son. Henry."

"I am well aware who he is," she commented tartly.

He said nothing for a moment or two, only looking at her with something akin to mild pity and some awkwardness, as though he wanted to say something but was second-guessing it.

It reminded her of Doctor Hopper, for some reason, as well as Swan when she'd first arrived. Realization made her ask, somewhat warily, "he didn't show you his book…did he?"

"Mmmhmm," he hummed in the affirmative.

Forgetting who she was with, Regina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. When she caught herself it was to find Locksley watching her with interest. She sighed, "all right, let me guess—he gave you the highlights of my extended and illustrious career as an Evil Queen?"

His mouth quirked at that, eyes crinkling slightly, "actually…no. That wasn't the topic of our conversation, nor was it what was shown to me."

She'd been opening her mouth in an automatic defense, scowl pulled from her repertoire of displeased expressions, when that took the wind out of her sails, "wait. You mean he didn't…?"

Robin shrugged, nonchalant, "I suppose I am to assume that this is out of the norm for the lad? He shared that tale with Swan, I imagine?"

"Yes," she barked shortly, "yes, he did."

"Well, it seems in this case that he determined to go another route."

The two single parents maintained their silent stare-off for several seconds, the tick of the clock their only companion, before Regina made a decision.

She pulled out another two bottles of cider and handed one of them to him. If he was surprised he didn't show it—other than a flicker of his eyes down to the chilled container he held.

The Queen nodded, firmly, choosing to face this one head-on, "alright, I'll bite. If he didn't air my laundry list of dirty deeds, then what _did_ he show you?"

Robin chuckled, "if I recall correctly, you already covered that information, your Majesty."

"Just answer the question, _thief_."

His smile was bland, "I don't see why it's so important to you that I do so."

"Well, it's about me, so…" she huffed slightly.

"So you have a right to know, is that it?" he filled in for her, one eyebrow lifted, "I don't see why it matters. Why should you care what it is that he said to me? Is it that you care about what I think?"

"I _don't_," she cut him off sharply, having trouble maintaining her temper, "I just like to know what my enemies have on me."

Her arms were folded and defensive as Locksley's other eyebrow rose to match the first and he straightened ever-so slightly as though they were finally getting to what they should have been talking about from the first.

"So that's what we are, then? Enemies."

She waved a hand at him, head-to-toe, "_please._ You're on _their_ side, aren't you? That's reason enough in most cases."

"I don't believe that I'm on anyone's side. Except, perhaps, my own," he held up a hand to forestall her sharp tongue, "which is not to say that I don't believe in doing that which is _right._ If you are familiar with _my_ tale, as many here bizarrely seem to be, you may be aware that I and the law have never gotten along. Which you so-prudently alluded to earlier."

She swore under her breath, "stop stalling. Just _tell me_ what you read."

She moved a step forward, hand already curled into fireball position, but both of them knew that she wouldn't do it—not with Roland upstairs nor even now that she'd started mending her reputation. Yet he glanced at the hand with interest before looking away, itching his check and taking a swig of the beverage she'd proffered just moments ago.

"And what would you say, your Majesty," he bowed at the waist, "if I were to tell that nothing I read was evil or negative. At least, none of _your_ actions were negative."

Her face froze up and mind blanked as she tried to imagine a time that fit his description and found that…she couldn't. The years skipped then ran past her mental gaze, yet nothing was as he described. Everything that she'd done had a painful recourse, for as long as she could quickly recall without going too far back.

"That…that's impossible."

"Really?" he mused, "was it so long ago that you cannot recall?"

She turned to lean against the closest counter as she rubbed a hand down her face, shoulders collapsing inward, "Locksley, I don't have time for this. Just…take your son and go. You've made your point."

"Have I?" he murmured in question before seeming to come to a decision, "well, how about this, then? I will tell you what I read if you answer me a question."

She peeked out between her fingers, confusion evident, "a question?" she scoffed, "really?"

His shrug was honest, "I am merely curious and as exchanging information must be of an equivalent nature, I presumed that this might be for the best. Do you agree?"

She withdrew her hands to examine him, top to bottom. A similar situation involving Rumpelstiltskin or even Swan normally set off alarm bells, and even deals with Snow had proven to end badly—as she'd found out. Yet Robin Hood had the appearance of a simple hero, no cloak and dagger approach at all. He only asked for the answer to one question and in exchange she would learn what her son had said about her—positive or negative, whichever it might be. It seemed simple enough, yet still she was uneasy.

Finally Regina nodded, holding out her hand for him to shake, "fine. It's a deal."

He readily accepted the hand clasp, hopping off the granite block and moving forward so that his fingers enveloped her own in warmth, never mind the fact that he hadn't been inside all that long. It was…disconcerting. And strangely enough she found her breathing somewhat constricted until he let go, simply waiting a moment or two.

The former Queen coughed into her hand before finding her words, "alright. So. What did Henry say about me?"

"Well," he began, scratching the back of his head in thought, "the boy began with the book, of course, which he had left open for me to read. There was a story about a young girl with a mother that did magic. Unfortunately I didn't get to finish it, but there was some information about the young woman…befriending a stable boy."

Regina's body locked up, face stricken and hand tightening on the neck of her bottle. The reaction surprised Robin, and with a blinking look he continued.

"I didn't get much beyond the scene of a runaway horse speeding by, but I suppose that it's all important?"

The thief moved forward to press a hand to her arm when she continued in her silence. The warmth, as well as his proximity, startled her into jumping slightly and when she realized that he was still touching her she took a step back—against the kitchen sink. Her laugh was pained, choked, as she set aside her bottle once again, "more than you know. So. Is there anything else I need to know…?"

Robin took it as a sign to give her more space, "only that this is supposed to mean something."

He pulled off his jacket, setting it aside as she looked on him in misunderstanding and then rolling up his right sleeve. There his Lion Tattoo stood out darkly against the pale skin of his inner arm, yet another truth put out into the open between them.

Her sigh was audible, and in a move completely uncharacteristic Regina took one step forward, then two. Startling him for the first time that night (or perhaps early morning at this point), she took his forearm in hand and traced the image which was in many ways her downfall. And his.

"So. The fairies told him."

"Or apparently the nuns, I'm not sure which," he stated in a light attempt at a joke.

"The fairies_ are_ the nuns," she murmured in all seriousness, "which of course means that you know now. I'm assuming."

His voice was strained, "I am aware that there were…certain opportunities which existed. Which apparently Henry still hopes for. He presented them to both Captain Jones and I."

"Hook?" she looked up automatically, dark eyes meeting light, "why would he-?" realization abruptly dawned on her, with a sigh, "_Emma._ Henry wants fathers, of course. It makes perfect sense. Apparently Rumpelstiltskin's son isn't good enough for him," she remarked dryly, almost to herself.

"Apparently not, although it may be for reasons other than a penchant for collecting relatives," Robin remarked lightly. When she looked up at him in further question he answered automatically—and how was it that they had moved from strangers standing across the room to parents commiserating over her child, she wondered?

"Yes?" she prompted.

"It seems the boy—the young man is concerned about your own happiness. And Sheriff Swan's. As well as Jones' and my own. He believes that we can find what we need in each other."

Her bark of laughter was sharp and unexpected, as was the rapid withdrawing from his presence. Then the former mayor was back to folding her arms across her chest, back pressed to the edge of the sink, "I've ruined your life enough as it is."

He took in a heavy, frustrated breath. He'd thought, for a moment, that her defenses were down but—no. One should never assume with the 'Evil Queen.'

"Yes, you did mention that. But you have yet to elaborate, which leads to my question, one I've been wanting to ask since Neverland," he watched her thoughtfully, "how _did_ you ruin my life, exactly? How did all _this_," Robin waved at the tattoo, "come about? Especially as, while your edicts _were_ severe," she rolled her eyes, "I'm fairly certain that we never actually met."

"We didn't need to," she sighed, folding her arms and speaking grudgingly, "it was all a meddling fairy's doing."

"How so?"

Regina refused to make eye contact, "just someone thinking that they knew better for me than I did, is all."

Robin's brows were furrowed, "I'm afraid I still don't understand."

Finally the Evil Queen huffed, "look, falling from a loose banister does not a suicide attempt make, but apparently there are people who think otherwise."

His eyes went from being partially lidded to fully open, startled enough that he let her keep rambling.

"I wasn't calling out for help, I assure you. But then _Tinkerbell_ got it in her head that what I needed to find was…was _love_ or some nonsense, and then proceeded to take me on a goose chase."

One of those accursed eyebrows shot up even further, if that was possible, "Tinkerbell? The maid from the island?"

"Yes. The Fairy!" she said acidly, frustrated that he wasn't keeping up, "she used some pixie dust, flew me to an inn a la the Wicked Witch of the West."

Here she became uncomfortable, looking down at her hands and Robin didn't interrupt, "and...y—he had a lion tattoo. I had a second chance at starting over, according to her, and…well, I was afraid and didn't go in. Leading us to where we are now," she ended sharply.

Realization made him rock back, taking what she had said—and _hadn't_ said—into account. Finally he tapped his lip, tone assessing, "it sounds as though you made a choice, yes, but that's all it was—your choice. I'm still not certain how you ruined my life."

Regina sighed and threw out her hand, "that's what _I_ thought. Then the _firefly_ informed me that I had been selfish. That I…when I didn't go in…" she paused, running a hand through her hair before resting it on her hip, "that I ruined your life, too. Just by doing nothing."

Her expression was rueful, glancing away. Yet Robin's response made her look up.

"That really is interesting. Particularly as I'm fairly certain that my life wasn't ruinous."

The former mayor looked up at him in confusion, "you're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not," he folded his arms confidently, "I'm a man of action, you see, and given a certain antipathy for magic," he carefully ignored her stiffening at that, "I would certainly know if such power played any part in influencing my decisions or the events in my life."

"You were persecuted by the Prince and his posse—_for years_," she declared flatly, "I know, I saw the wanted posters."

"Others have been just as persecuted," he remarked pointedly.

"You also lived your life on the run—your _marriage_ on the run," she retorted, scowling.

"I am not the first to claim a traveling romance, either. As your stepdaughter, no doubt, can no doubt attest to," she shot him a dirty look, "and I have to admit, I'm rather surprised that you are so familiar with my life."

"This world thinks that our lives are stories," she explained sharply. It wasn't as though she had actually _searched_ his information out, "and don't change the subject. The fact is, your life has been one terrible event after another."

"Yes," he remarked, bridging the distance between them with more force than he had shown up until that moment, "but the moments between were of the finest crystal. Gemstones of memory that I cherish in my soul. I lived a thousand lifetimes in those moments, and the memories of them are enough to get me through anything."

He watched avidly as Regina's breath hitched and eyes widened, his hands trapping her against the metal edge on either side, "If those moments are all that I will ever possess of such joy then I die a happy man."

Her hand had somehow landed on his shoulder, though whether to push him away or bring him closer she wasn't sure. Only that Robin's gaze scanned her features before falling to her lips, and that the fabric of his shirt was incredibly soft.

The air around them was a vacuum of sound as all the magic user could see was the scruff of his beard, the shape of his lips. He was nothing like Daniel, physically, yet there was that same magnetic pull.

Then a faint bird call encroached in the moment and it was as though Robin Hood had been shot, stumbling away with one hand running over his face and the other reaching for his heavy coat. She was left blinking, frozen, at the sudden universe of space between them, her lungs filling and emptying as though she'd just fought ogres.

And her hands, _oh her hands_, they practically _hummed_ with magic. The force of emotion encapsulated in those scant seconds left her magical reserves flooding over, an unexpected and unwarranted reaction.

"I…it appears that I have outstayed my welcome," Robin murmured quietly and with more than a little irony, given that he hadn't been let in in the first place, "if you would direct me to my son I would be most appreciative."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Regina muttered moving her bottle entirely aside and checking her robe once more. Closed. Very much closed. And it was dark enough that Locksley probably wouldn't be able to see the color which was creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She cleared her throat and sidled past him, careful to avoid brushing her arm against his as he tugged on his outerwear and put his bow back into place.

"Just…follow me," climbing the winding staircase, she didn't realize that they were heading for her room until they had arrived. Thanking whatever foresight had caused her to put away her dirty laundry, Regina tried not to notice his quick scan of the area—elegant, simple, mostly unadorned—before his eyes fell on the tumble of blankets which was his son.

Even without seeing his face Robin's relief was evident, shoulders dropping and an unspoken tension melting off of him. He ran a hand through his boy's hair, the child having shifted into a diagonal position across "her" side. But the movement stopped as he looked back at her curiously.

"These clothes, they're…?"

"They're Henry's," she explained shortly, tucking a wayward lock behind her ear, "your son's clothing was dirty, so I fished out some of _my_ son's things. He does you credit, though—he dressed himself just fine. Didn't need any help at all."

"Yes, well, Roland has always been fiercely independent," he said wryly.

"He follows his father, then?" Regina prompted with a hint of a smirk.

The archer paused, "his mother, actually. Though few realized it while she yet lived. Marian even pulled a knife on me once or twice—usually during those moments I insisted on going alone."

Just like the camaraderie which had been present was sucked from the moment. She took a deep breath and continued.

"I'll wash his clothes and get them back to you."

"And I will do the same," he made as if to carry the boy off her mattress, but it was hampered by Roland's fierce grip on the sheets. The father chuckled, "it appears that he has yet to understand the concept of sharing—even in his sleep."

"You can take the blankets with you and just return them with the pajamas. _Bed-clothes_," she corrected when he looked at her strangely.

"You won't be missing your-?" he waved his fingers and it took a second for her to understand.

"Oh! No, it's fine. I've got some spare blankets in the hall closet. Worst comes to worst I can raid the guest bedroom."

"Multiple forms of bedding—yet another blessing of this world, I am to suppose?"

"Yeah, well, most homes have 'blessings' like that these days," she explained quietly.

"Yet only yours—and perhaps the Dark One's—homes resemble inns and manors yet are entirely empty," he remarked casually whilst wrapping up a very special package.

"You could say that we appreciate 'personal space,'" she remarked with some dryness.

Robin bowed with his son in his arms, a talented endeavor, "given my own form of housing—which is to say, none, I must agree with you."

The outlaw straightened and drew closer, eyes just barely visible in the dark, "that being said, thank you for caring and protecting my son. There are few who would do the same."

She snorted in an effort to ignore his proximity, "you'd be surprised. This town is practically teaming with heroes."

"Yet it was the 'villain' who did the saving. Thus earning a double portion of thanks."

The two of them stood there, at an impasse after their whispering, Regina's nerves tightening further the longer he just _looked_ at her.

Regina opened her mouth in self-defense but Robin beat her to it.

"My lady," he nodded politely at the archway behind her, "if you would let me pass?"

The door. Oh. She was standing in front of _the door_. Feeling her face flush, Mayor Mills stepped aside, feeling the slight brush of his shoulders as he passed by. Then she was trailing after him down the stairs and to the entryway where Locksley retrieved the child's boots, if not his muddy coat.

The woodsman nodded goodnight to her one last time before disappearing into the dark, where a handful of other shadows converged. With a sigh Regina shut and bolted her front door, heading back upstairs to a bed which had become cold, as empty as ever and now blanket-less. Snatching up a comforter from the hallway she curled up in her solitude, uncaring of the nest she'd made as she promised to clean up the evidence of their kitchen conversation in the morning—including a certain unfinished pie and several rather conspicuous bottles.

She would take care of them well before when Henry got home, when she could focus on more important things than a bandit with a talent for catching her off guard.

~/~/~

AN: Arrrgh. This was a beast to write. Mostly because of work and distractions. I had meant to finish it by Thanksgiving, but unfortunately…I work retail. At a toy store. And thus ended up work Thursday (Thanksgiving), Friday, and Saturday, pretty much back to back. Since then I've also been pretty busy, and I keep getting distracted by Tumblr for some reason. XD Go figure, right? In any case, enjoy this loooooong addition to an already AU story. (Seriously, it's as AU as AU gets at this point. Especially after the most recent episode.)

All joking aside, I hope that when Regina and Robin DO interact that it will be something like this. Him keeping his cool, her not knowing what to do with him, and Henry meddling like crazy. :)

Thanks so much for reading, and I hope that the length makes up for the lateness!


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